A House Where No One Leaves
by Ritual Union
Summary: Severus Snape prided himself first and foremost on his ability to stay calm in the most dire of situation. He was always able to maintain his sense of control. His sense of character. But of all the things that had moved him to the state of fury that he was currently in, of all the people that could possibly awaken the comatose state of his heart, it had to be Him.
1. Asphyxiated

_Harry Potter and all related content belong to J.K. Rowling. No copyright infringement intended._

_Author's Note: Just an idea, waiting to bloom..._

**A HOUSE WHERE NO ONE LEAVES**

Severus Snape prided himself first and foremost on his ability to stay calm in the most dire of situations. In front of his colleagues, in front of the old man Dumbledore, in front of the Dark Lord—he was able to maintain his sense of control. His sense of character. But of all the things that had moved him to the state of fury that he was currently in, of all the people that could possibly awaken the comatose state of his heart, it had to be _him_.

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><p>oOo<p>

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><p>Chapter One, Asphyxiated<p>

Harry Potter knew he was in trouble. The Dursley's where due to come back at any moment and where was he? Locked out on the front porch, outside the front door, the opposite side of where he's meant to be. It wasn't Harry's fault, though. He'd been cooped up inside the house for half of the summer. A whole month! He deserved a little sunshine once in a while, didn't he? He sighed and hung his head in defeat. His stomach was frighteningly empty and in his head were the beginnings of a terrible migraine. If only Dumbledore had sent any word allowing him to go to the Burrow before the start of their sixth year…

But September 1st was slowly drawing closer and with it came a sense of understanding. That no matter what Harry said or did, Dumbledore would not listen to his pleas. When had he ever listened before? Harry growled and lashed out a fist, pounding it against the door in frustration.

Not for the first time this summer, Harry felt lost…abandoned. Which was saying something because he never really belonged anywhere, did he? Not when he was dropped on this very doorstep. Not in the Wizarding world which isolated him for something he did before he was even able to walk. He just didn't belong. And the one place he'd been looking forward to calling home, the one person he had found that he could call _family_…

Harry bit his lip so hard it began to bleed. A sob died in his throat. He didn't want to feel like this anymore. It was suffocating…if only he hadn't been so foolish!

He straightened at the sound of a car coming down the driveway. Hastily, he cleared his face, smoothed out his shirt and turned to face the Dursley's.

"What in the devil are you doing out here, boy?" Uncle Vernon's face was purpling, as it usually did whenever Harry was near him. Dudley wandered over with a smirk.

"Got locked out," Harry said, not having the energy to lie.

"Got locked out?" Uncle Vernon sneered. "Well, you shouldn't have been out here in the first place you _undeserving_ little-!"

"Vernon, the neighbors…" Petunia whispered.

Vernon turned around to look, but the neighbors were nowhere in sight, possibly staying cool indoors against the record-breaking heat of the summer. Vernon grunted, gave one last glare at Harry and ushered his wife inside before him. Dudley, who'd just started growing hard muscle on top of all the fat that surrounded him, knocked his shoulder against Harry. Harry was thrown back and, unable to catch himself, fell on top of the rose bushes on the side of the porch. The front door closed with a snap.

Grimacing, Harry disentangled himself from the thorns and plucked them away where they had pierced his arms. He began the process of fixing the rose bush as best he could, almost welcoming the burns on his small open wounds so he wouldn't feel the pounding in his skull or the ache in his chest. Eventually, he was let inside. He went to his room, closed the door, and sat—as he had done for the past month—at the chair by his wooden desk.

Harry wondered if this was any way to live. And on this eve of his sixteenth birthday he was sure, as he stared at the darkening sky outside his window, that it was not.

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><p>oOo<p> 


	2. Aggravated

oOo

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><p><em>Chapter Two, Aggravated<em>

"The boy is being _starved_ for God's sake," Severus said, pacing at the front of the Headmaster's desk. "Why have you not taken him away from that place? He'll die of starvation before the start of term."

"I had not realized how much you've grown to care for 'the boy,' Severus," Dumbledore said with an infuriating twinkle in his eyes.

Severus narrowed his eyes dangerously. "I am merely observing and stating facts. Do not twist my words around. If you want someone to worry about the state of your favorite student, then send someone else to guard him! Send the werewolf! For all that I care, I'm surprised you even chose me to guard that insolent brat."

"We cannot take him away from there, Severus. As you know, Harry is safest where his mother's protection will hold. Until the age of seventeen, Harry will always be safe there," Dumbledore said firmly. Severus, having heard this countless times before, merely scowled. It seemed, as always, there would be no changing the old man's decisions.

Dumbledore sat calmly at his desk, his hands folded neatly on top of it. "And I trust you to do whatever it takes to protect him, however much you think badly of him."

Severus didn't bother to answer, it would only earn him a headache trying to argue with the man. Instead, Severus turned the direction of their conversation, "Headmaster, have you taken your potion?"

The Headmaster glanced down his half-moon spectacles, at his hands which were still clasped. His right hand had blackened and shriveled, the result of the curse on Marvolo's ring. "I have. And forgive me for having to ask you that I am in need of another set."

"I'll have it ready tomorrow morning."

With that, Severus excused himself and left the office, walking down the spiraling staircase, his black robes billowing in his wake.

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	3. Awakening

oOo

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><p><em>Chapter Three, Awakening<em>

Harry spent the next three days in much the same state. His room was a mess. Scattered pages of the Daily prophet were strewn about; pages he'd read over and over again, worrying himself over the fact that Death Eater incidents had been increasing and spilling over into the Muggle world. Even the Dursley's had noticed. How much everything seemed to be changing around them. The weather had turned bleak, sudden, and a familiar mist hung over the city, pressing down on all of its inhabitants.

Not for the first time, Harry wondered why he hadn't had any face-to-face contact over the summer. Aside from the days soon after his godfather's death, Dumbledore hadn't spoken to him. His words were still in his head though. Words that he didn't want to hear. That he was the Chosen One. That the prophecy and Voldemort had chosen him as the final enemy, had given him a scar for it. That the whole reason his parents had died, was because of Voldemort's _fear_.

Harry was venturing out again. It was nighttime and the Dursley's were fast asleep. Harry had received birthday letters from Hermione and Ron and Hagrid, but there was no mention of when they would try to get Harry out of there. It was turning out to be a summer much like the year before, and Harry wondered if Dumbledore had told them to refrain from any contact with him again. Harry hadn't replied back.

He reached a deserted playground, one that he'd often visit before, and sat himself upon a swing. The chains were cold on his hands and slowly he rocked himself back and forth. The swings creaked at every movement. The reality of his situation was unbearable. If he was supposed to be the one to defeat Voldemort, why haven't they started giving him proper lessons in fighting? At the rate Dumbledore kept hiring new Defense professors, Harry would never learn anything useful! He stilled his movements abruptly when he heard rustling in the shadows of the trees. But it was too dark to see past a few yards in front of him; the street lights were dim, and the light of the moon was obstructed, signaling a summer storm. Harry narrowed his eyes as another rustling came from behind him. He stood up and reached into the waistband of his jeans. His wand safe in his hand, he fought to calm himself. It's not like there would be an ambush in the middle of Little Whinging. Voldemort wouldn't dare. Another rustling and out of pure instinct, Harry called for shield against a violent flash of red thrown in his direction. Harry gasped as his shield shattered violently, the force of his opponents spell throwing him a few feet onto paved ground. He ignored the bruising pain on his back and scrambled to his feet just as another jet of red whistled past his ear. Angered, Harry sent his own stunning spell in the direction of the cloaked figure, but the spell was easily blocked.

Harry's heart was racing, he only just dodged another curse, but it fueled him. If he was going to die here, in a duel with a nameless figure, he would make sure to take the person down with him. He fired off another stunner, and another, walking closer to the man. In any other instance, Harry would consider his moves reckless, but at the moment he didn't care. He was angry. Angry at Dumbledore, angry at his friends, angry at his _life_. He fired an Expelliarmus and it shot out of his wand. The man—for he was clearly a man—raised his wand and the spell rebounded. Having caught Harry off guard, the spell hit him squarely in the chest and once again he was flying back onto the ground, his wand clattering somewhere too far for him to reach. He scrambled to get up again but he stopped, a wand pointed only inches from his face.

"I finally have the _honor_ of meeting the famous, Harry Potter," a smooth voice said from behind the mask of a Death Eater. He wore a black cloak, draped over his shoulders, covering his entire body up to his wrists.

Harry mustered a face of disgust. "Apologies that I don't feel the same way about you."

There was a chuckle, "The Dark Lord was right. Such a feisty one, aren't you?"

Harry's eyebrows furrowed at the tone, but he remained silent. Was this it then? Not even having a chance to face Voldemort? Harry felt a tingling of regret. Just then he took notice of something in the man's hand. A silver vial with a needle at the tip. A syringe? There was a dark red liquid inside and Harry didn't want to know what the contents were made for. He pushed forward and the man fell back with a curse. Harry darted away but it was too dark to see where his wand had fallen. He was hit with a leg-binding spell and he fell forward.

"No! Get off me!" Harry felt the man's weight on top of his own. A hard knee held his legs down and an arm was draped across his back to keep him still.

"Don't worry, Harry. This won't hurt a bit," the man's smooth voice purred.

"Fuck you. Don't you dare-!" Harry groaned as the needle pierced his neck. It burned like hell and he could almost feel the beats that his heart missed as the liquid poured through his veins. He tried to push the man away again but his limbs were frozen, paralyzed by the poison.

Suddenly there was a flash of red through his half-closed eyelids; the street beneath him shook. The hold on his back slackened and he could hear the words, "We'll meet again soon, Harry," before the weight left all together, and there was a familiar pop of disapparition.

"Potter!"

Harry couldn't respond. He couldn't think. His blood was boiling underneath him, spasms of electricity making him gasp. But he recognized the voice calling out to him. Fought to recognize the concern behind it that had never been there before. He whimpered as the syringe that was still piercing his neck was pulled out, and after a moment it was thrown on the ground and he heard the vial shatter. He felt hands turn him over. Though the world was spinning he made out a pale face. Dark locks. And the darkest eyes that seemed almost endless. His insides were melting, on fire, he was sure, and soon he welcomed the darkness that enveloped him.

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	4. Inheritance

oOo

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><p>Chapter Four, Inheritance<p>

When Harry came back into consciousness he didn't feel any better. Every inch of his body felt bruised, as if he'd fallen off the top of the Astronomy tower. But what was unsettling him the most was the feeling of his magic throbbing just under his skin. He felt feverish. Hot. He felt his magic at the very tips of his fingers, almost burning. He felt it swirling in his abdomen, in his chest, his throat; it burned the area around his eyes. He tried to open them, he saw nothing. He took in a shaky breath and his lungs seared. His magic pulsed with every breath and every heartbeat, as if his magic was trying to break free and consume him. He struggled again to open his eyes, to move, to run away from his crazed magic. He wanted out.

Cold hands seized him by the shoulders. He cried out. Voices were talking to him, but Harry could not, for the life of him, understand the words. He lashed out at the prying hands, yelled until his voice felt sore and soon he felt a blanket of unfamiliar magic washing over him, calming him down, and he welcomed the darkness that overcame his mind.

The next time Harry awoke, it was to the sound of muffled voices around him. His brain was pounding and his throat felt raw. He didn't bother opening his eyes, which he was sure would require a tremendous effort. He focused in on the voices.

"What if we don't find a cure, Headmaster?" asked a worried voice that Harry vaguely recognized as Madam Pomfrey's. "This could be very dangerous for him."

Was he in the hospital wing, then? It certainly smelled like the hospital wing. Clean, anesthetized. He felt an inkling of relief wash over him and almost immediately it left him. He didn't think getting ambushed by a Death Eater was any way to get himself back to Hogwarts. He gathered he must've been in a lot of trouble to have been brought straight to the school as opposed to being dropped off back at the Dursley's. Not that Harry was complaining or anything.

With no little effort, Harry focused back on the conversation surrounding him.

"—can't say that we will be able to find a cure," came the voice of Professor Dumbledore. "At any rate, we cannot know the extent of damage Harry has suffered until he awakens. For now I will suggest that you rest, Poppy. Thank you for your help." There was an exchange of good night's and Madam Pomfrey's footsteps died away.

Harry frowned the tiniest bit. Extent of damage? What exactly had that poison done to him? On the verge of opening his eyes and facing Dumbledore, Harry paused. He heard the door of the infirmary open and another set of footsteps, quiet and swift came towards his bed.

"I gather everything's in order?" Dumbledore asked the newcomer.

"The appropriate parties have been notified, if that is what you are asking," Snape's cool voice sounded at the foot of Harry's bed.

"Good, good…"

"There is no known antidote for the poison he has been injected with," Snape continued. "You know this, Headmaster. It's only a matter of time—"

"I'm sure we'll find a cure, Severus. Of that I am positive."

"Did you not just listen to my words? _There is no antidote_. All the magic the insolent br—"

"Severus."

"-that _boy _would've gained throughout his entire life is being given to him in the span of who knows how long! He won't be able to control it! Furthermore, we don't know what kind of damage the poison has done to his body. He's a danger to the school and to the students!"

Harry swallowed involuntarily but otherwise, remained unmoving and silent.

"_Harry_ is a strong young man," Dumbledore said, "and I have great confidence that he will manage to pull through his ordeal. With the right guidance, what happened tonight does not have to cripple him."

"With the _right guidance_?"

Harry found it easy to imagine Snape's teeth bared in displeasure.

"Yes. Someone to guide him through the coming obstacles."

"And am I to assume you already have someone in mind?" Snape's voice had lowered an octave.

"Yes," Dumbledore said matter-of-factly. "You."

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><p>oOo<p>

_Author's Note: Thank you all so much for the support/reviews! :3_


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